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검색어: nemo the paper boy (영어 - 타갈로그어)

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전문 번역가, 번역 회사, 웹 페이지 및 자유롭게 사용할 수 있는 번역 저장소 등을 활용합니다.

번역 추가

영어

타갈로그어

정보

영어

Nemo the little paper story

타갈로그어

nemo ang batang papel story

마지막 업데이트: 2015-08-21
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

I tore the paper

타갈로그어

punit na papel

마지막 업데이트: 2016-10-07
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

edge of the paper

타갈로그어

gilid ng papel

마지막 업데이트: 2015-07-28
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

You read the paper?

타갈로그어

Nabasa mo na ba ang diyaryo?

마지막 업데이트: 2014-02-01
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

overview of the paper

타갈로그어

buod ng kwento papel

마지막 업데이트: 2015-01-26
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

water reads the paper

타갈로그어

nabasa ng tubig ang papel

마지막 업데이트: 2017-12-05
사용 빈도: 3
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추천인: 익명

영어

Doers of the paper bag

타갈로그어

Taga gawa ng paper bag

마지막 업데이트: 2017-06-10
사용 빈도: 1
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추천인: 익명

영어

Nemo the little paper rene villanueva (Tagalog)

타갈로그어

nemo ang batang papel rene villanueva(tagalog) Si Nemo ay isang batang yari sa ginupit na diyaryo. Pinunit-punit, ginupit-gupit saka pinagdikit-dikit, si Nemo ay ginawa ng mga bata para sa isang proyekto nila sa klase. Ngayo’y bakasyon na. Si Nemo’y naiwang kasama ng ibang papel sa silid. Nakatambak siya sa bunton ng mga maalikabok na polder at enbelop. Isang araw, isang mapaglarong hangin ang nanunuksong umihip sa silid. Inilipad niya sa labas si Nemo. Nagpalutang-lutang sa hangin si Nemo. Naroong tumaas siya; naroong bumaba. Muntik na siyang sumabit sa mga sanga ng aratiles. Nang mapadpad siya sa tabi ng daan, muntik na siyang mahagip ng humahagibis na sasakyan. Inangilan siya ng dyip. Binulyawan ng kotse. At sininghalan ng bus. Mabuti na lamang at napakagaan ni Nemo. Nagpatawing-tawing siya sa hangin bago tuluyang lumapag sa gitna ng panot na damo sa palaruan. Nakahinga nang maluwag si Nemo. Ngunit nagulantang siya sa dami ng nagtatakbuhang paa na muntik nang makayapak sa kaniya. Naghahabulan ang mga bata at kay sasaya nila! Araw-araw, tuwing hapon, pinanonood ni Nemo ang mga naglalarong bata. Inggit na inggit siya sa kanila. Tuwing makikita niya ang mga bata sa palaruan, gustong-gusto rin niyang maging isang tunay na bata. “Gusto kong tumawa tulad ng totoong bata! Gusto kong tumakbo tulad ng totoong bata! Gusto kong maghagis ng bola tulad ng totoong bata!” Sabi nila, kapag may hiniling ka raw na gusto mong matupad, kailangang sabihin mo ito sa pinakamalayong bituin sa langit. Kaya isang gabi, matiyagang nagbantay sa langit si Nemo. Hinintay niya ang paglabas ng pinakamalayong bituin. At nang makita niya ito, sinabi niya ang kaniyang hiling. “Bituin, bituin, tuparin ngayon din Ako’y gawing isang batang masayahin!” Pumikit nang mariin na mariin si Nemo. Naramdaman niyang parang umiikot ang paligid at nagkakagulo ang mga busina ng sasakyan. Totoong bata na si Nemo! Pagdilat niya’y kasama na niya ang kaniyang totoong Tatay na walang trabaho, at totoong Nanay na payat na payat, at walong totoong kapatid na ang ingay-ingay sa isang masikip, makipot, at tagpi-tagpi pero totoong bahay. “’Wag kayong tatamad-tamad,” sigaw ng kaniyang totoong tatay. “Magtrabaho kayo!” Kaya napilitang tumakbo si Nemo palabas ng bahay. Palakad-lakad si Nemo sa kalye. Hindi niya pansin ang mga humahagibis na bus. Hindi niya pansin ang mga humahagibis na dyip. Isip siya nang isip kung paano makakatulong sa kaniyang totoong pamilya. Kahit bata pa, napilitang maghanapbuhay si Nemo. Sa umaga’y nagtinda siya ng sampagita at humahabol-habol sa mga kotse. Pagod na pagod si Nemo araw-araw. Pakiramdam niya, pabilis nang pabilis ang kaniyang pagtanda. Kaya naisipan niyang pumasok sa eskuwela. Sumilip siyang muli sa paaralang pinanggalingan niya. Pero dahil marumi ang kaniyang suot at wala siyang sapatos, inirapan lang si Nemo ng libro. “Hindi ka bagay dito!” sabi ng libro. “Ang baho-baho mo!” Nagalit din sa kaniya ang mesa. “Ang dumi-dumi mo!” sinigawan din siya ng pisara. “Alis diyan!” Kaya napilitang tumakbo si Nemo. Nagtatakbo siya nang nagtatakbo hanggang sa gilid ng dagat. Sinabi ni Nemo ang problema niya sa dagat pero naghikab lang ito. At kahit ang alon na puno ng layak ay nagtakip ng ilong nang maamoy siya. “’Wag mo nang dagdagan ang basura dito!” sigaw nito kay Nemo. Malungkot na naglakad-lakad si Nemo. At sa maraming kalye ng marusing na lungsod, sa bawat sulok ay may nakita siyang mga batang-kalye. May nagbebenta ng sampagita. May nagtitinda ng sigarilyo at diyaryo habang maliksing sumasabit-sabit sa mga sasakyan. May mga kalbo, galisin, at palaboy na yakap-yakap ang supot na plastik na kapag sinisinghot nila ay parang nagguguhit sa kanilang mukha ng mangmang na ngiti. May mga batang butuhan ang binti at malamlam ang mata na akay-akay ng matatatandang puti na parang kislap ng balisong ang kislap ng mata. “Kay dami-dami palang batang kalye,” naisip ni Nemo. Kung gabi, kung halos hindi umihip ang mapanuksong hangin, ang mga batang kalye ay nagtitipon-tipon sa parke na may monumento ng bayaning may kipkip na libro. Tumatakbo sila. Naglulundagan. Nagbibiruan. Naghahagikgikan. Pero napansin ni Nemo na walang taginting ang kanilang halakhak. Parang pumanaw na ang kislap sa sulok ng kanilang mata. Sumama si Nemo sa iba pang batang lansangan. Nagtipon-tipon sila sa isang bahagi ng parke. At sa dilim ng gabi, nagsimula silang maglaro at magkantahan. Nalaman ni Nemo na marami palang batang tulad niya. Mga batang lansangan, mga batang kailangang maghanapbuhay dahil sa kahirapan. Tinipon ni Nemo ang iba pang batang lansangan. Nang magkuwentuhan sila, nalaman nilang pare-pareho pala ang kanilang gusto: mapagmahal na magulang, maayos na tahanan, masayang paaralan, at sapat na pagkain. Ipinagtapat ni Nemo ang lihim na kaniyang natuklasan. Matutupad ang anumang pangarap kapag hiniling sa pinakamalayong bituin. Sabay-sabay silang tumingala sa pinakamalayong bituin sa langit at hiniling nila ang lahat ng ito. “Bituin, bituin, tuparin ngayon din Lahat kami’y gawing batang masayahin.” Sa isang iglap, lahat sila ay naging batang papel. Inilipad sila ng hangin. Kay gaan-gaan ng kanilang pakiramdam. Kay saya-saya nila dahil malayo na sila sa magulong pamilya, malupit na eskuwela, at maingay na kalsada. Nagtaka ang mga taong nakakita sa palutang-lutang na mga batang papel. Marami ang naawa sa kanila. Pero ang hindi nila alam, mas maligaya na ngayon ang mga batang papel, gaya ni Nemo, kaysa mga totoong bata na kailangang makibaka at mabuhay sa malupit na kalsada. Mula sa: Ang Gintong Habihan: Mga Kuwentong Premyado ng Palanca. (1998). Maynila: Tahanan Books for Young Readers

마지막 업데이트: 2015-02-16
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

what the paper mache to music

타갈로그어

ano ang kahulugan ng paper mache sa musika

마지막 업데이트: 2017-02-07
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

Nemo the young man role

타갈로그어

tauhan ng nemo ang batang papel

마지막 업데이트: 2015-07-28
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

nemo, the role of rene villanueva

타갈로그어

nemo,ang batang papel ni rene villanueva

마지막 업데이트: 2018-10-15
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

Walk the papers

타갈로그어

magasikasong mga papeles

마지막 업데이트: 2017-08-18
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

take care of the papers

타갈로그어

green pasture

마지막 업데이트: 2018-12-11
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

Now explain that to the papers!

타갈로그어

Ipaliwanag mo ito sa mga pahayagan!

마지막 업데이트: 2016-10-27
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

The papers were mixed together in a big box.

타갈로그어

Ang mga papeles ay inihalo sa isang malaking kahon.

마지막 업데이트: 2014-02-01
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

do you want me to be your friend and is it real that you said anamae that why you scratch the paper how you do that you want me your friend and why are you absent do you really like me to be your friend if you dont understand heres more

타갈로그어

ang gusto mo sa akin na maging kaibigan mo at ito tunay ang sinabi mo anamae na bakit scratch ko ang papel kung paano mo daw ako maging kaibigan gusto mo ba talagang maging kaibigan at bakit ka absent ng dalawang araw and kung wala kang maunawaan sabihin mo lang sa akin ok

마지막 업데이트: 2014-12-02
사용 빈도: 1
품질:

추천인: 익명

영어

The Lottery Ticket by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860-1904) Approximate Word Count: 1978 Ivan Dmitritch, a middle-class man who lived with his family on an income of twelve hundred a year and was very well satisfied with his lot, sat down on the sofa after supper and began reading the newspaper. "I forgot to look at the newspaper today," his wife said to him as she cleared the table. "Look and see whether the list of drawings is there." "Yes, it is," said Ivan Dmitritch; "but hasn't your ticket lapsed?" "No; I took the interest on Tuesday." "What is the number?" "Series 9,499, number 26." "All right . . . we will look . . . 9,499 and 26." Ivan Dmitritch had no faith in lottery luck, and would not, as a rule, have consented to look at the lists of winning numbers, but now, as he had nothing else to do and as the newspaper was before his eyes, he passed his finger downwards along the column of numbers. And immediately, as though in mockery of his scepticism, no further than the second line from the top, his eye was caught by the figure 9,499! Unable to believe his eyes, he hurriedly dropped the paper on his knees without looking to see the number of the ticket, and, just as though some one had given him a douche of cold water, he felt an agreeable chill in the pit of the stomach; tingling and terrible and sweet! "Masha, 9,499 is there!" he said in a hollow voice. His wife looked at his astonished and panicstricken face, and realized that he was not joking. "9,499?" she asked, turning pale and dropping the folded tablecloth on the table. "Yes, yes . . . it really is there!" "And the number of the ticket?" "Oh yes! There's the number of the ticket too. But stay . . . wait! No, I say! Anyway, the number of our series is there! Anyway, you understand...." Looking at his wife, Ivan Dmitritch gave a broad, senseless smile, like a baby when a bright object is shown it. His wife smiled too; it was as pleasant to her as to him that he only mentioned the series, and did not try to find out the number of the winning ticket. To torment and tantalize oneself with hopes of possible fortune is so sweet, so thrilling! "It is our series," said Ivan Dmitritch, after a long silence. "So there is a probability that we have won. It's only a probability, but there it is!" "Well, now look!" "Wait a little. We have plenty of time to be disappointed. It's on the second line from the top, so the prize is seventy-five thousand. That's not money, but power, capital! And in a minute I shall look at the list, and there--26! Eh? I say, what if we really have won?" The husband and wife began laughing and staring at one another in silence. The possibility of winning bewildered them; they could not have said, could not have dreamed, what they both needed that seventy-five thousand for, what they would buy, where they would go. They thought only of the figures 9,499 and 75,000 and pictured them in their imagination, while somehow they could not think of the happiness itself which was so possible. Ivan Dmitritch, holding the paper in his hand, walked several times from corner to corner, and only when he had recovered from the first impression began dreaming a little. "And if we have won," he said--"why, it will be a new life, it will be a transformation! The ticket is yours, but if it were mine I should, first of all, of course, spend twenty-five thousand on real property in the shape of an estate; ten thousand on immediate expenses, new furnishing . . . travelling . . . paying debts, and so on. . . . The other forty thousand I would put in the bank and get interest on it." "Yes, an estate, that would be nice," said his wife, sitting down and dropping her hands in her lap. "Somewhere in the Tula or Oryol provinces. . . . In the first place we shouldn't need a summer villa, and besides, it would always bring in an income." And pictures came crowding on his imagination, each more gracious and poetical than the last. And in all these pictures he saw himself well-fed, serene, healthy, felt warm, even hot! Here, after eating a summer soup, cold as ice, he lay on his back on the burning sand close to a stream or in the garden under a lime-tree. . . . It is hot. . . . His little boy and girl are crawling about near him, digging in the sand or catching ladybirds in the grass. He dozes sweetly, thinking of nothing, and feeling all over that he need not go to the office today, tomorrow, or the day after. Or, tired of lying still, he goes to the hayfield, or to the forest for mushrooms, or watches the peasants catching fish with a net. When the sun sets he takes a towel and soap and saunters to the bathing shed, where he undresses at his leisure, slowly rubs his bare chest with his hands, and goes into the water. And in the water, near the opaque soapy circles, little fish flit to and fro and green water-weeds nod their heads. After bathing there is tea with cream and milk rolls. . . . In the evening a walk or vint with the neighbors. "Yes, it would be nice to buy an estate," said his wife, also dreaming, and from her face it was evident that she was enchanted by her thoughts. Ivan Dmitritch pictured to himself autumn with its rains, its cold evenings, and its St. Martin's summer. At that season he would have to take longer walks about the garden and beside the river, so as to get thoroughly chilled, and then drink a big glass of vodka and eat a salted mushroom or a soused cucumber, and then--drink another. . . . The children would come running from the kitchen-garden, bringing a carrot and a radish smelling of fresh earth. . . . And then, he would lie stretched full length on the sofa, and in leisurely fashion turn over the pages of some illustrated magazine, or, covering his face with it and unbuttoning his waistcoat, give himself up to slumber. The St. Martin's summer is followed by cloudy, gloomy weather. It rains day and night, the bare trees weep, the wind is damp and cold. The dogs, the horses, the fowls--all are wet, depressed, downcast. There is nowhere to walk; one can't go out for days together; one has to pace up and down the room, looking despondently at the grey window. It is dreary! Ivan Dmitritch stopped and looked at his wife. "I should go abroad, you know, Masha," he said. And he began thinking how nice it would be in late autumn to go abroad somewhere to the South of France ... to Italy ... to India! "I should certainly go abroad too," his wife said. "But look at the number of the ticket!" "Wait, wait! ..." He walked about the room and went on thinking. It occurred to him: what if his wife really did go abroad? It is pleasant to travel alone, or in the society of light, careless women who live in the present, and not such as think and talk all the journey about nothing but their children, sigh, and tremble with dismay over every farthing. Ivan Dmitritch imagined his wife in the train with a multitude of parcels, baskets, and bags; she would be sighing over something, complaining that the train made her head ache, that she had spent so much money.... At the stations he would continually be having to run for boiling water, bread and butter. ...She wouldn't have dinner because of its being too dear.... "She would begrudge me every farthing," he thought, with a glance at his wife. "The lottery ticket is hers, not mine! Besides, what is the use of her going abroad? What does she want there? She would shut herself up in the hotel, and not let me out of her sight.... I know!" And for the first time in his life his mind dwelt on the fact that his wife had grown elderly and plain, and that she was saturated through and through with the smell of cooking, while he was still young, fresh, and healthy, and might well have got married again. "Of course, all that is silly nonsense," he thought; "but...why should she go abroad? What would she make of it? And yet she would go, of course.... I can fancy.... In reality it is all one to her, whether it is Naples or Klin. She would only be in my way. I should be dependent upon her. I can fancy how, like a regular woman, she will lock the money up as soon as she gets it.... She will look after her relations and grudge me every farthing." Ivan Dmitritch thought of her relations. All those wretched brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles would come crawling about as soon as they heard of the winning ticket, would begin whining like beggars, and fawning upon them with oily, hypocritical smiles. Wretched, detestable people! If they were given anything, they would ask for more; while if they were refused, they would swear at them, slander them, and wish them every kind of misfortune. Ivan Dmitritch remembered his own relations, and their faces, at which he had looked impartially in the past, struck him now as repulsive and hateful. "They are such reptiles!" he thought. And his wife's face, too, struck him as repulsive and hateful. Anger surged up in his heart against her, and he thought malignantly: "She knows nothing about money, and so she is stingy. If she won it she would give me a hundred roubles, and put the rest away under lock and key." And he looked at his wife, not with a smile now, but with hatred. She glanced at him too, and also with hatred and anger. She had her own daydreams, her own plans, her own reflections; she understood perfectly well what her husband's dreams were. She knew who would be the first to try to grab her winnings. "It's very nice making daydreams at other people's expense!" is what her eyes expressed. "No, don't you dare!" Her husband understood her look; hatred began stirring again in his breast, and in order to annoy his wife he glanced quickly, to spite her at the fourth page on the newspaper and read out triumphantly: "Series 9,499, number 46! Not 26!" Hatred and hope both disappeared at once, and it began immediately to seem to Ivan Dmitritch and his wife that their rooms were dark and small and low-pitched, that the supper they had been eating was not doing them good, but Lying heavy on their stomachs, that the evenings were long and wearisome. . . . "What the devil's the meaning of it?" said Ivan Dmitritch, beginning to be ill-humored. 'Wherever one steps there are bits of paper under one's feet, crumbs, husks. The rooms are never swept! One is simply forced to go out. Damnation take my soul entirely! I shall go and hang myself on the first aspen-tree!"

타갈로그어

Ang tiket ng loterya ay hindi masasaktan

마지막 업데이트: 2018-05-14
사용 빈도: 1
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추천인: 익명
경고: 보이지 않는 HTML 형식이 포함되어 있습니다

영어

A long time ago, cricket fighting caught on in the imperial court, with the emperor leading the fad. A local magistrate in Huayin, who wanted to win the favor of the monarch, tried in every way to get him the best fighting crickets. He had a strategy for doing so: He managed to get a cricket that was very good at fighting. He then made his subordinates go to the heads of each village and force them to send in a constant supply of fighting crickets. He would send to the imperial court the crickets that could beat the one he was keeping. Theoretically, everything should have worked smoothly. However, as the magistrate was extremely zealous to please the emperor, he meted out harsh punishment on any village heads who failed to accomplish their tasks. The village heads in turn shifted the burden to the poor villagers, who had to search for the crickets. If they failed to catch them, they had to purchase them from someone else, or they had to pay a levy in cash. The small insects suddenly became a rare commodity. Speculators hoarded good crickets, buying them at a bargain and selling them for an exorbitant price. Many village heads worked hand in hand with the speculators to make profits. In so doing, they bankrupted many a family. Cheng Ming was one such villager. The head of his village delegated part of his duties to him because he found Cheng Ming easy to push around. Cheng Ming did not want to bully his fellow villagers as the village head did him, so he often had to pay cash out of his own pocket when he failed to collect any competent crickets. Soon the little proper ties he had were draining away, and he went into a severe depression. One day, he said to his wife that he wanted to die.“Death is easy, but what will our son do without you?” asked his wife, glancing at their only son, sleeping on the kang. “Why can’t we look for the crickets ourselves instead of buying them? Perhaps we’ll strike some goodluck.” Cheng Ming gave up the idea of suicide and went to search for crickets. Armed with a tiny basket of copper wires for catching crickets and a number of small bamboo tubes for holding them, he went about the tedious task. Each day he got up at dawn and did not return until late in the evening. He searched beneath brick debris, dike crevices, and in the weeds and bushes. Days went by, and he caught only a few mediocre crickets that did not measure up to the magistrate’s standards. His worries increased as the dead line drew closer and closer. The day for cricket delivery finally came, but Cheng Ming could not produce any good ones. He was clubbed a hundred times on the buttocks, a form of corporal punishment in the ancient Chinese judicial system. When he was released the next day, he could barely walk. The wound on his buttocks confined him to bed for days and further delayed his search for crickets. He thought of committing suicide again. His wife did not know what to do Then they heard about a hunchbacked fortune teller who was visiting the village. Cheng Ming’s wife went to see him. The fortune teller gave her a piece of paper with a picture on it. It was a pavilion with a jiashan (rockgarden) behind it. On the bushes by the jiashan sat a fat male cricket. Beside it, however, lurked a large toad, ready to catch the insect with its long, elastic tongue. When the wife got home, she showed the paper to her husband. Cheng Ming sprang up and jumped to the floor, forgetting the pain in his buttocks.“This is the fortune teller’s hint at the location where I can find a perfect cricket to accomplish my task!” he exclaimed.“But we don’t have a pavilion in our village,” his wife re minded him.“Well, take a closer look and think. Doesn’t the temple on the east side of our village have a rock garden? That must be it.” So saying, Cheng Ming limped to the temple with the support of a make shift crutch. Sure enough, he saw the cricket, and the toad squatting nearby in the rock garden at the back of the temple. He caught the big, black male cricket just before the toad got hold of it. Back home, he carefully placed the cricket in a jar he had prepared for it and stowed the jar away in a safe place. “Everything will be over tomorrow,” he gave a sigh of relief and went to tell his best friends in the village the good news. Cheng Ming’s nine-year-old son was very curious. Seeing his father was gone, he took the jar and wanted to have a peek at the cricket. He was removing the lid carefully, when the big cricket jumped out and hopped away. Panicked, the boy tried to catch the fleeing cricket with his hands, but in a flurry, he accidentally squashed the insect when he finally got hold of it.“Good heavens! What’re you going to say to your father when he comes back?” the mother said in distress and dread. Without a word, the boy went out of the room, tears in his eyes.Cheng Ming became distraught when he saw the dead cricket. He couldn’t believe that all his hopes had been dashed in a second. He looked around for his son, vowing to teach the little scoundrel a good lesson. He searched inside and outside the house, only to locate him in a well at the corner of the court yard. When he fished him out, the boy was already dead. The father’s fury instantly gave way to sorrow. The grieved parents laid their son on the kang and lamented over his body the entire night. As Cheng Ming was dressing his son for burial the next morning, he felt the body still warm. Immediately he put the boy back on the kang, hoping that he would revive. Gradually the boy came back to life, but to his parents’dismay, he was unconscious, as if he were in a trance. The parents grieved again for the loss of their son. Suddenly they heard a cricket chirping. The couple traced the sound to a small cricket on the door step. The appearance of the cricket, however, dashed their hopes, for it was very small. “Well, it’s better than nothing,” Cheng Ming thought. He was about to catch it, when it jumped nimbly on to a wall, cheeping at him. He tip toed to ward it, but it showed no sign of fleeing. Instead, when Cheng Ming came a few steps closer, the little cricket jumped onto his chest. Though small, the cricket looked smart and energetic. Cheng Ming planned to take it to the village head. Uncertain of its capabilities, ChengMing could not go to sleep. He wanted to put the little cricket to the test before sending it to the village head. The next morning, Cheng Ming went to a young man from a rich family in his neighborhood, having heard him boasting about an “invincible” cricket that he wanted to sell for a high price. When the young man showed his cricket, Cheng Ming hesitated, because his little cricket seemed no match for this gigantic insect. To fight this monster would be to condemn his dwarf to death.“There’s no way my little cricket could survive a confrontation with your big guy,” Cheng Ming said to the young man, holding his jar tight. The young man goaded and taunted him. At last, Cheng Ming decided to take a risk. “Well, it won’t hurt to give a try. If the little cricket is a good-for-nothing, what’s the use of keeping it anyway?” he thought. When they put the two crickets together in a jar, Cheng Ming’s small insect seemed transfixed. No matter how the young man prodded it to fight, it simply would not budge. The young man burst into a guffaw, to the great embarrassment of Cheng Ming. As the young man spurred the little cricket on, it suddenly seemed to have run out of patience. With great wrath, it charged the giant opponent head on. The sudden burst of action stunned both the young man and Cheng Ming. Before the little creature planted its small but sharp teeth into the neck of the big cricket, the terrified young man fished the big insect out of the jar just in time and called off the contest. The little cricket chirped victoriously, and Cheng Ming felt exceedingly happy and proud.Cheng Ming and the young man were commenting on the little cricket’s extraordinary prowess, when a big rooster rushed over to peck at the little cricket in the jar. The little cricket hopped out of the jar in time to dodge the attack. The rooster then went for it a second time, but suddenly began to shake its head violently, screaming in agony. This sudden turn of events baffled Cheng Ming and the onlookers. When they took a closer look, they could not believe their eyes: The little cricket was gnawing on the rooster’s bloody comb. The story of a cricket fighting a rooster soon spread throughout the village and beyond. The next day, Cheng Ming, along with the village head, sent the cricket to the magistrate and asked for a test fight with his master cricket, but the magistrate re fused on the ground that Cheng Ming’s cricket was too small.“I don’t think you have heard its rooster-fighting story,” Cheng Ming proclaimed with great pride. “You can’t judge it only by its appearance.”“Nonsense, how can a cricket fight a rooster?” asked the magistrate. He ordered a big rooster brought to his office, thinking that Cheng Ming would quit telling his tall tales when his cricket became the bird’s snack. The battle between the little cricket and the rooster ended with the same result: The rooster sped away in great pain, the little cricket chirping triumphantly on its heels. The magistrate was first astonished and then pleased, thinking that he finally had the very insect that could win him the emperor’s favor. He had a golden cage manufactured for the little cricket. Placing it cautiously in the cage, he took it to the emperor. The emperor pitted the little cricket against all his veteran combat ant crickets, and it defeated them one by one. What amused the emperor most was that the little creature could even dance to the tune of his court music! Extremely pleased with the magic little creature, the emperor rewarded the magistrate liberally and promoted him to a higher position. The magistrate, now a governor, in turn exempted Cheng Ming from his levies in cash as well as crickets. A year later, Cheng Ming’s son came out of his stupor. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, to the great surprise and joy of his parents. The first word she uttered to his jubilant parents were, “I’m so tired and hungry.” After a hot meal, he told them, “I dreamed that I had become a cricket, and I fought a lot of other crickets. It was such fun! You know what? The greatest fun I had was my fight with a couple of roosters!” (Taken from a website)

타갈로그어

mga cricket boy maikling kuwento

마지막 업데이트: 2015-07-28
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